


Hush

by peixe



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Dramatic Description, M/M, maybe this is a lil gay there is hand touching, uh, um
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-04
Updated: 2017-08-04
Packaged: 2018-12-11 04:59:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,365
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11707311
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peixe/pseuds/peixe
Summary: Prompt: "Silence. And then a hand on hand made the problems of the world disappear "





	Hush

 

His sight was dim, blear around the edges, but he could see the falling debris from what once was a strong castle, home to many. They could see chaos erupting like flames of spells and burning bodies, dancing in serpentine fashion, ensnaring anxious hearts and filling them with adrenaline.

He could see it all being taken away by darkness, his vision swimming, blending the images of a battle field into nothingness. A Whisper of smoke. The fall of unconsciousness.

 

But it was war. People fell, but not soldiers.

 

Harry could not stop, he had no right to rest his feet nor his mind.

 

His legs worked unceasingly, the soles of his shoes hitting stone grounds, sounding as loud as his thundering heart, but how could it be so loud , when explosions already resonated through corridors, echos of anger from the grim shadows that followed him? How could his ears fail to capture the sheer violence of sounds around?

 

Red permeated the young man’s vision, blood flowed from somewhere above his eyes, maybe a consequence from when a piece of wreckage hit him. It would explain his failing senses.

 

Harry snarled, determination seeping in again as he dived onto the ground to escape a strong spell from the living wrath behind him. Losing senses or not, the boy who lived was a soldier, and a soldier only fell when it meant being a _winner_.

 

It matters not if his head was in line, he was born with it there, constantly waiting for the guillotine to fall.

 

Bloody tear filled eyes looked at the approaching owner of pure crimson ones.

 

It matters not if it was _Lord Voldemort_ who wished to be his executioner.

 

The teenager screamed, rising from the ground, firing every spell in his hazy mind, although wounded. His clumsy feet danced confidently now, not hesitating in its steps when it came to survival.

He could see the older wizard move his lipless mouth as they danced, words forming and teeth baring mockingly, but Harry couldn't hear, a mix of sounds in his buzzing ears. The more time went by , faster silence fell, the world gradually becoming mute .

 

Something within him shook with unease.

He feared what would come after the complete silence.

When there was nothing to focus on but the image of Voldemort.

 

The dark lord’s face contorted in rage, noticing that Potter refused to answer his taunts. A pale hand gripped yew tighter, slashing raw magic towards the boy, as if in punishment for his silence.

 

_What an annoying old man_ , Harry thought.

 

Focusing back on their duel Harry ducked, evading, avoiding, escaping, dodging every move of his counterpart. Legs _burning_ with overtax, the only thing reminding him that they were still glued in place, his body seemed to not belong to him anymore. Sometimes needing to focus on his own hand to make sure his grip was still firm around the holly wood, afraid that maybe he would let the wand fall.

The Boy Who Lived let the Dark Lord take lead, their vicious dance making his entire body sweat with effort. Blinking away the blood from his eyes, green irises watched serpentine face with unholy focus, waiting for any moment of distraction that might give him a chance to run away. Waiting for that moment in which the insanity within the old wizard made what once was the mind of a genius into one easy of having its focus disturbed.

 

Their eyes locked.

 

Both feet froze, bodies momentarily on hold, young and old, suddenly mirrors of each other.

Every chord of Harry’s irises destructed , like guitar strings snapping moving forward in highspeed, his pupils dilated together with reptilian ones, darkness in both engulfing their counterpart, red blended with green, world vanishing around them, so silence could finally fall into place-

 

Harry gasped, breaking their gaze.

 

He trembled like a man that had suddenly escaped from the depths of murderous waters, his unoccupied hand reaching his heaving chest. It felt different from legilimency, Voldemort hadn't entered his mind, it wasn't painful, no... It felt... as if something had pulled them to each other, urging their existences to blend into a single being, bringing the silence he had so feared minutes before, into reality. Threatening with the possibility of his world vanishing without his knowledge. To forget who he _is,_ who he _must_ be.

 

_The Boy Who Lived._

_Defeater of The Dark Lord._

_Symbol of the Light._

_Harry Potter._

 

He looked towards the older wizard, eyes filled with fear and hands trembling with confusion.

  
The other was everything Harry wasn't in that moment, his fighting stance left, a straight and regal posture now in place, wand hand slack, relaxed. The only thing suggesting his lack of knowledge on what had just happened was the memory of flickering surprise that had broken onto his face when their eyes had locked before.

But now Voldemort looked like a marble statue, suddenly so immobile one would think he was petrified, eyes somewhere over Potter’s face, looking, yet not truly seeing him, mind somewhere far away.

 

Not bare feet took a step back.

 

The motion broke the pensive look off Voldemort, his deformed face contorted in a palette of emotions, the most proeminent ones being anger and confusion.

Before the snake could bare its teeth towards the lion to utter anything, Harry was on the run. Shooting himself toward the nearest stairs, hopping, skipping steps as fast as he could with his short legs.

 

He tried to focus on the world around him, not just on the old prodigy and their duel, nor his loud shoes. His mind tried to gather every noise, screams and shouts, the commotion inside walls, the pandemonium outside, the uproar of ideals that coated what should be innocent walls of a school with the blood of those who contradict them.

 

_But those walls were dirtied long time ago, by the same man._

_The same man._

_Just, a different name._

 

His eyes retreated, peeking behind him. He saw silent shadows moving, a blur of being almost licking his heels.

The danger of eternal silence approaching.

 

_And a new promise._

 

He must keep focus, he must keep focus and not fall.

 

\-------------------------------

 

Harry couldn't believe how, but he did it. He found a way around Voldemort, the dark wizard losing him from sight.

 

He stepped inside the Astronomy Tower, alone, briefly having a moment of relief from the overwhelming aura of the dark lord. His moves echoed around the room, the heels of his dirty shoes against wood.

Young eyes searched, looking towards where he came from before continuing to move forward, looking at empty stairs that led there. Stone corridors only showed darkness, the sole light source being of the rising spells and descending moon outside, it  gave him a hair-rising visage. But at least there were no _shadows_ following, only the true darkness of nature.

 

Forgetting the staircase he went deeper into the room, reaching the window with slow steps.

 

As he approached, his gloomy silhouette lightened, like reflection of water on surfaces, Harry saw his tanned skin get painted with a festival of lights from below the tower. Orange, blue, green, white, all of them shone against him, green eyes blending pandemonium into a color palette of chaos inside his irises.

He rose his feet, getting up on the window sill one foot at a time. The boy who lived stood tall, the symbol of light almost sinister with his rigid posture and everlasting determination.

Watching his people fight, he couldn't allow himself to fear, he was a soldier like them, _their_ soldier, he carried within their falling thunder, the lightning bolt who shall come from the skies to destroy the false premises penetrating the wizarding world, releasing prisoners out of the Devil’s hands.

 

Harry pocketed his wand, caressing its form through his jeans.

Tanned hand pressed strongly against it.

A drop of sweat slides slowly from under his sleeve.

Dripping from anxious fingers.

 

He had never quivered at the dark lord’s name, nor had his deepest fears take their image, nor had death’s hands brought shivers down his spine. No. Nothing he had to face now was an reason for him to tremble.

 

And yet.

 

Harry wiped sweaty hands on clothed legs.

 

And _yet_.

 

Here he was, his breath stumbling in hesitation. Faltering thoughts taking his mind, nerves telling his hands to _shake_.

It wasn't Voldemort who made such things happens though, no, it was something else.

_-something had pulled them to each other, urging their existences to blend into a single being. Bringing the silence he had so feared minutes before, into reality. Threatening with the possibility of his world vanishing without his knowledge. To forget who he is, who he must be-_

 

Soft steps took his attention, the sound of bare skin against the ground. It approached him silently, but not enough for him to _not_ notice.

The Savior of Light turned, and standing, facing towards him in the middle of the room was the Reincarnation of Darkness himself.

 

Harry studied Lord Voldemort, the yew wand rested in milky white fingers but not raised against him. Once again he gazed at marble, blank face and emotionless eyes. Nor the man’s posture told him what could be inside that broken mind. Where was the rage? The confusion? Sharp teeth molding mocking words? What should he do with this breathing creation?

Releasing a shaky breath he left the window sill, stepping onto the same level as Voldemort. He would just stick to his plan.

The young man raised his hand, dirty skin covered in small cuts displayed itself, palm open and facing upwards. Uncurling fingers towards his enemy, gently, in offering. A peaceful gesture, for the provocative vows he would utter, to make his counterpart lose control.

But, before he could even whisper a lyric, the dark lord’s eye twitched, and Potter couldn't help but catch it with his own. Frowning, he watched older and more experienced eyes squint at him.

 

And just like that...

After wishing to avoid it so much...

Green locked into Red once again.

 

It was instantaneous, rapid, immediate, the rush of minds blending, bleeding into each other, the destruction of self to coalesce, pull and form one mass, a whole, a new being. Blinding colors of scarlet and verdant dancing into full bloom golden light, swallowing their world, tearing apart every sense in their common bodies, their human and fragile carcasses, _whispering_ a promise of true immortality. Harry could slightly feel his body shaking, like a leaf being threatened by a storm, winds howling against him, trying to take the boy from his tree, his only home, the only world he had ever known about.

His soul sang in varying tones of despair and yearning, the wailing wrath who mouthed desperation tried to make him remember ever vow he took, each word he mentally recited deeply. _He was a soldier, only people fall, not soldiers. He was the boy who lived, the falling lightning bolt, savior of light, defeater of him whom bears darkness happily._

 While another part, one who longed for this completion _murmured_ , sounding so much louder than what should be right, seductively supplied ideas of _becoming one_ , of _becoming himself_ , _a person_ , _fill the hole_ , _take back what was stolen and then given away_.

 

_Ideas of peace_ , and _silence_.

 

The young wizard fought his best against the pull, trying to focus anywhere but those new sensations, feet dragging against wooden floor with difficulty, wanting to run away from Voldemort.

Scarlet wouldn't unlock green from their hold, neither could green escape from it, eyes now blind unable to see anything else but each other and the holy light production of such encounter. Harry could still feel his body and hear his surroundings still, vaguely aware of the window sill at his back. The effort of resisting _this_ even more tiring than a duel between him and the dark lord.

Small gasps suddenly became pants, shaky exhales escaped every time he tried to stop such overwhelming feelings and the flowering panic within his heart which controlled his breathing.

Tanned hands grabbed each side of the opening behind him, grip strong and fingers burning slightly from pressing themselves so aggressively onto stone texture. He held himself there, body, mind and soul, all in one grip. Trying to flood his heart with determination, inflate it with fire, swell with adrenaline, so he had enough strength to _move_ his eyes away from the bloody trap. To free himself.

And move they did, for one moment Harry felt hope flare into the flowing blood of his veins, but his eyes did not unlock from Voldemort’s. No, they slowly moved up, together with his head, tilting his face up so his gaze could stay where it was.

 

He felt an exhale upon his face.

 

Sweaty fingers slipped from stone, startled, understanding fell upon him, knowing exactly whose face was above his, whose body was so close to his own now. The boy who lived reflexively inclined away, half of his body crossing the window on his back, nearly falling out of the tower. A weak ‘no’ almost fell from his lips, but once again Harry was silenced, this time by the form of a hand bigger than his, pressing against his back, preventing the fall from happening.

Oh god, The Dark Lord held him, pulling his body towards his own. Away from peril.

The man’s touch _burned_ a solid handprint unto his conscience, preventing him to question _why_ was the other doing such a thing.

His legs shook, world becoming mute again, the true puzzle pieces falling into perfection, fingers traced his arm, slowly nearing the hand which he had offered before.

 

Tears formed in green eyes, a drop gliding down dirty skin, slowly falling to the ground.

 

A hand reached his own, long fingers interlacing with wounded digits, taking what was proposed and much more.

 

It took the world apart, every corner of knowledge, all of what he knew, what he had, thoughts, feelings, senses...

 

War, ideals, right, wrong, fear, love, sight, taste, smell, touch, hearing, all vanished.

 

And then finally, silence fell, and with it Harry Potter.

**Author's Note:**

> This was my first fanfic ever, betaed by my darling kouhai and wife: Awsomeangel.
> 
> If you see any errors put the fault on me, not on her, because yes.
> 
> I hope yall liked it, please tell me what you think. Also im a complete novice in ao3, if you think that maybe i have put something wrong in the tags or warnings feel free to warn me. 
> 
> \waves hand\ Thank u for reading, have a lovely day.


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